


Rising to the Challenge

by Endlessnotebooks



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: And then Vanessa does, Canon Divergent, Canon doesn't exist, Canon? What Canon?, Dad!Pool AU, Disabled Character, Family, Found Family, Gen, Wade and Peter meet before Wade becomes Deadpool, Wade raises Peter, does it count as disabled if they lose a hand?, missing kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:10:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endlessnotebooks/pseuds/Endlessnotebooks
Summary: Peter and May were there the day Ben was shot. Peter ran - he was seven, who could blame him? Except now he's gone missing and been informally adopted by one Wade Wilson. It may be dangerous, being a mercenary's kid, but Wade sees potential. The kid is bright, and he'll be damned if harm comes to him.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter had run away after the shooting, as much as he hated it. His aunt had told him to run – had told him to get away while the gunman was occupied with her.

But now he was lost, and the men standing in front of him were scary, speaking in another language as they dragged him towards their car, his hands held behind him with a zip-tie. He was crying, and he was trying to get them to tell him something, anything, but the men just shoved him harder towards the car, one of them calling to him with an accented “Shut up.”

There was a bang as he was pushed again, and the man in front of him fell to the ground, bleeding. The second shooting he had seen in his life and in that night.

The man in front of him had short hair and a lopsided grin. “Well, well, well. Would you look at that? I was told there were shitsticks in the city dealing in children.” Another shot and Peter heard someone behind him fall over. “But you know what, I have some friends that are more than willing to talk some sense into you.”

Two more, and the others fell over. Peter didn’t want to look.

The man knelt down in front of him. “Wade Wilson. What’s your name, little man?”

Peter shook his head. “Aunt May said not to talk to strangers.”

“Your Aunt May sounds really, really smart. But I’m not trying to hurt you like those guys were, and I just want your name.”

Peter shifted, mumbling.

“What was that?”

“Why?”

“If I knew your name, I could get you back to your Aunt May a lot faster.”

That was appealing…

“Peter. My name is Peter.”

“Alright, Peter. Where do you live?”

That was information he had been told to never, under any circumstances, give to someone he didn’t know. “No. I can’t tell you that.”

Wade scratched his temple with the pistol. “Alright, then. You’re coming with me until I can get you somewhere safe.”

“What? No!” Peter scowled. “I wanna go home!”

“Well if you won’t tell me where home is, I can’t help you.”

“Then take me to the police! They’ll take me home!”

“Kid, if there’s one thing I can’t do, it’s that.” Wade smirked. “But I can take care of you myself. Probably.”

Peter liked to please people, but he was also stubborn. That was the start of it, though. The start of a new life, even if he liked his old one.

* * *

May Parker was stricken with fear and guilt. She had lost her husband and her nephew in one night, and she didn’t know where to look.

“Ma’am, where would he have gone?” The police officer in front of her passed her water. She set it on the desk in front of her. She wasn't the priority - Peter was. 

“I don’t know. We weren’t near our house, and I just told him to run. I didn’t want him getting hurt.”

She knew she should be panicked, harried, but everything felt distanced from her. There was nothing that could really reach her, not emotionally, anyway. “Ma’am, would he tell someone where to take him?”

May shook her head. “Ben worried that could cause problems. He read it somewhere. He always told Peter to ask to be taken to the police.”

“Then we’ll have to hope he remembers that part.”

May finally felt it hit her, and all she could do was weep. Her nephew was missing, and she was losing time to find him. Who knew if she ever would? 

She was alone, and all she wanted was to be able to hold Peter in her arms, to protect him from the world and the hurt. 

* * *

Wade was very careful with Peter. The first two weeks, Peter was crying a lot and asking for his aunt, and Wade did his best to find her, but without a name (or last name, for that matter), it was a bit difficult. A lot of kids went missing in New York, and the worse the neighborhood the less it was reported on, if it got reported at all. Asking around would just raise suspicion, and that was the last thing he needed. The other St Mary’s mercs wouldn’t give him trouble, but others in the underbelly he lived his life in weren’t in the habit of being so generous.

After a while, Peter adjusted. He calmed down a lot after meeting Weasel, who started teaching him how to make drinks.

“You know the kid’s like, seven, right?”

Weasel shrugged. “He’s your kid now. I figured he might as well get a useful skill.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that he’s going to be on his own a lot. At least if he starts manning the bar here young he can get some protection.”

It made sense. Peter was a cute kid, and if he was mixing the drinks for the others at St Mary’s they would be more inclined to defend him if something went wrong or if Wade went AWOL on an assignment for a few days.

That reminded him. “Hey, Weasel, you’re his godfather now.” A mock knighting gesture. "You get to watch him while I’m on a hit in a couple days.”

“What?”

“I can’t leave him alone yet, are you nuts?”

“Are you nuts for taking in a kid?” Weasel sighed. “Fine. I’ll take the kid – _this time_. You hear me, Wade? I’m not taking him every time!”

Wade smirked, ordering himself a cocktail. “Sure. I’ll just figure out who else I know that I can trust with my kid.”

Weasel’s scowl was betrayed by his smile as he looked at the kid that was making the drink with no prompting, seeming to have fun. "Hey, Mr. Weasel! This sounds like that thing my science teacher told us about - chemistry?

“Hey, Mr. Wade,” Peter looked at him seriously from where he stood on a bench that helped him reach the counter, “If I’m your kid now, does that make you my dad?”

Wade hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t wanted to, given the shit that was in his family history. But he was going to do his best for this kid – he wouldn’t repeat his parents’ mistakes. “Yeah, kid, it does.”

“But what if you find my Aunt M- my aunt?”

“I can still be your dad if you want, kiddo, but I would never stop you going back to your aunt if that’s what you wanted.”

“Can I call you dad, then?”

The kid wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t fearful like he had been. “Yeah, kid. Call me whatever you want.”

* * *

Tony Stark looked at the profile in front of him.

_May Parker, wife of Benjamin Parker_

The widow of a Stark Industries employee, and her kid was listed as missing. A casualty of existence, but it didn’t sit right with Tony. He glanced at his friend, back on leave and spending it with Tony instead of his family.

Tony sighed. “Hey, Rhodey, talk me out of something.”

“What?”

“I want to help this lady find her kid if I can.”

“Why should I talk you out of that?”

“Because it’s the last thing I should be doing, if you ask literally anyone else in my life.”

Rhodey wasn’t like everyone else in his life – he wasn’t like Obi or like his father had been – so he shrugged. “Sounds like a good plan to find the kid, man. You have more resources. I say go for it.”

Tony typed up an email, shooting it off to May offering his services and resources to find her nephew. Hopefully something would come of it.


	2. A Year Goes By Faster Than You Can Imagine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year after Wade takes Peter in, the boy is doing pretty well. Wade tries to keep details of his job from Peter, but he's always been a bright kid. 
> 
> Peter and Weasel discuss Peter's plans for the future.

A year had passed, but Peter barely registered the date. The first few months were rough. He missed May, he didn’t know if Ben was okay, and he was getting used to these strange people who approached the world in a fundamentally different manner than anything he had ever seen before.  

He had been put in school as soon as Wade had realized that was something that should be taken care of. He didn’t mind his new school. He was enrolled as Peter Wilson, given he still hadn’t told Wade his last name. It had started becoming a joke – he trusted his dad with his life, but not his surname.

“Get up kid, it’s time for school!”

“Come on, five more minutes?”

“When you’re a teenager, _maybe_.”

Peter groaned as he moved towards his dresser and started getting ready. Because Wade’s apartment was, for the most part, a single room with a kitchen tucked open and in the corner and a bathroom attached in what amounted to a closet with a bathtub and toilet, Wade had gotten permission from his landlord to work with some buddies to set up a loft area for Peter. The ladder even came up in case anything happened at Wade’s work and Peter needed to hide. Lining it up with the railing would block most of the loft from sight, and the things on the side would make it look like storage.

Scrambling down the ladder, Peter shrugged a sweater on over his clothes.

“Good.” Wade gestured from the small kitchen towards him. “It’s gonna be cold today, and you’re already too skinny to stay warm”

“Gee, thanks, Dad.”

Wade ruffled his hair before sticking a finger in his ear. “Eat up. Nassrin is taking you to school today.”

Nassrin Amari was their landlady, and she had two kids that went to Peter’s school. She knew a lot more about his dad’s work than Peter did, but always told him that she would explain when he was older.

A lot of adults said that.

He liked Nassrin, though. ‘Mrs. Almari’ was a widow, and she was always willing to have Peter over when his dad was working nights.

Eating his breakfast as fast as he could and grabbing his bag, Peter hugged Wade around his leg while the man pulled his stuff together for work and yelled “See ya tonight, Dad!” as he ran out the door to meet with Mrs. Almari.

* * *

May Parker looked at the calendar. She still hadn’t found Peter, and the police had given up. If she hadn’t found him yet, they said, she probably wouldn’t. Anything could have happened – he could have been trafficked, killed, or worse. He could have been taken in by someone, but she didn’t think anyone who could find his family – and she had put out so many notices and ads looking for him – would keep him away from her.

She looked at the calendar, and she cried for the first time in weeks. She had thought she was getting better. Thought she was getting over losing him.

Grabbing her phone, she dialed her work. Her boss knew this was coming, knew she wasn’t in the right headspace for work. But she had told him she would do her best.

He didn’t even wait for her to say hello before saying ‘take as much time as you need.’

May wept, and she stayed inside her apartment that day, reading all of the books she could that had been Peter or Ben’s favorites. She would have to move on, but now wasn’t the time to try it.

* * *

Tony Stark shouted in frustration. A year had gone by and he hadn’t found the kid. He sat at his workstation in the lab and started getting to work on the project he had started to distract himself. The kid had to be out there – he had to be. There was no way he could fail this, he could fail to find a kid. He had been seven years old – how could he give up on a seven year old?

But he hadn’t made any progress. He hadn’t found him, and he hadn’t been able to help May.

Stumbling through the code, Tony looked at a block of it. On a whim, he entered in code to make the AI constantly run searches for a ‘Peter Benjamin Parker’ or some variation of that, taking into account the photo of Peter he had. Another several lines accounted for aging the photo up as much as could be done while maintaining a plausible accuracy.

He might not be able to keep searching in all his free time – Rhodey had already told him that while it was a kindness, he shouldn’t obsess – but he could have someone, something doing it for him.

* * *

Peter smiled as St Mary’s came into view. He walked there alone after school everyday to spend time with Weasel until his dad picked him up. The other mercs greeted him, some more gruffly than others, but overall pleasantly. Weasel always said he was like the only piece of light in the dingy and depressing center where they all congregated and found work, but Peter had to think they had something that wasn’t alcohol or their work.

He knew he was being idealistic. Wade had told him one night, after a really tough assignment that had almost cost him his life, that Peter was the brightest thing in his life. That if it came down to choosing between himself and Peter, it wasn’t even a question. In true Wade fashion, though, he followed it up with “But don’t you dare be a dick about it, you hear that? The second you start throwing yourself in danger, all bets are off, kid.”

He knew that wasn’t true, though. Wade didn’t like to be serious, so they weren’t. It wasn’t how they rolled. If things got heavy, the tension was always broken by Wade cracking a joke or Peter reading from whatever book he had gotten at the library most recently.

Wade did his best. He tried to keep what he could about his job from Peter, and the other mercs were more than willing to keep it quiet. They helped Wade by trying not to swear, to fight, to talk about work while the kid was around. It didn’t leave much other than small talk and bar games for them, but it was a lot lighter in St Mary’s now.

“Hey, kid.” Weasel tapped his shoulder. “My aunt died. Left me this old piano. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Really?”

Peter had wanted to learn _something_. It seemed like fun, being able to play an instrument.

“Yeah, just ask your dad.”

“Thanks, Weasel!”

A hand ruffled his hair. “No problem, kid.”

“Oh! I met this really cool kid, today! Her name was Haley, and she can’t hear! Our teacher says she doesn’t know sign language, but she did pretty well with hand gestures and stuff.”

Weasel nodded, letting him babble on as he stood on an old shelving unit to reach the bar. Peter took orders and made drinks or plated food just as Weasel had taught him. He had gotten pretty good at it over the last year.

“At the rate you’re doing this I’m going to need to start paying you. Damn it.”

“Come on, Weasel. To be above board, you gotta wait till I’m 14.”

“Nothing about this place is legal. You really think I’m going to wait that long to comp you for your labor?” Weasel shook his head. “I’ll talk to Wade.”

“Dad’ll say you’re getting soft.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Peter sent Weasel a cheeky grin, pouring out the vodka shot for Buck while Weasel grumbled at him. He grabbed the remote, switching the channel. There was a tall man on, wearing an air force uniform. Peter’s head shot up when the voice reached his ears, starting to get excited at seeing him.

“That’s James Rhodes!”

“Nice, kid. Who’s that?” Weasel spared a glance at Peter to make sure nothing got broken while trying to place the face.

“James ‘The War Machine’ Rhodes?” Peter was aghast. “Dad’s unit worked with his a couple years back. According to Dad, he’s a real stand-up guy. Really smart too! Went to MIT and everything!”

“MIT?” Weasel nodded at him. “That where you want to go after high school, then?”

“Dad says it’s really hard to get in, so I’ve been doing some stuff on my own to get ready now.”

“Ten years away, kid.”

“Not too early to start preparing.” Peter shrugged. “There’s a science high school in Queens I could go to. It’s hard to get in if you’re out of district, but they take a couple of applicants every year. Figured I could start doing some work now to get on their radar.”

“Your dad would do anything to help you get where you want to be.” It went unsaid that the last thing Wade wanted was for Peter to follow in his footsteps.

“Yeah. I don’t want it to be something he has to worry about, though.” Peter grabbed an empty glass off the counter, moving it to the sink and starting to wash up the growing pile of dishes. Shouting over the running water, Peter grabbed his makeshift stool, glancing at Weasel as he moved to start washing. “I can do this on my own.”

“Kid, you’re nine. You’ve got six years before high school, and your dad thinks that tech stuff is cool, even if he pretends otherwise. Tell him about it. He’ll probably start learning it with you.

“God knows he could use a skill that isn’t…”

“That isn’t...?”

Weasel waved Peter off. “He needs a less dangerous skillset. Let’s just put it that way.”

Peter was quiet a moment. The kid was almost never quiet, but right now he was. It threw Weasel for a loop. “You guys don’t say it. I know you’re trying to protect me, but I know what Dad does. I know it’s illegal, too. He only goes after bad guys, though, right?”

“Yeah, kid. He doesn’t like going after innocent people. It’s not his style.”

“So he’s kind of doing the right thing.”

“You could make that argument.”

Peter didn’t talk much after that. He left early to go back home.


	3. Encourage His Interests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is nine, and it's been eventful. Wade worries, but he hopes if he pushes his kid towards his interests - if he encourages Peter's passions, even if his goal is slightly unrealistic - that it'll help Peter move on. 
> 
> Oh, God, he hopes it helps Peter move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, maybe this feels a bit rushed, but I wanted to establish some stuff now for later plot points. 
> 
> *SPOILER* Peter's first try at this project isn't going to work. But it's just the first try.
> 
> I'll probably update the kid!Tony piece tomorrow or the day after.

Peter was nine when Wade decided it was time to start teaching Peter how to defend himself, and it was brutal. It was bad enough that Peter had accidentally gotten wrapped up with one of his enemies, but to have gotten so badly hurt? That was unacceptable. Even if it meant hurting his son in the moment, he had to learn to defend himself against people who wouldn’t give him the kindness and mercy his own father would.

Unfortunately, that goal was slowed down significantly. To prove they were serious (though Wade didn’t doubt a threat, and he certainly didn’t doubt one from these guys), they had taken one of his son’s hands. It was by a pure miracle that Peter’s quick thinking saved his dominant hand.

_‘Let’s see how much your son likes not being able to write, Wilson.’ A shuffle on the other end of the phone. ‘Which one, kid?’_

_‘Left! It’s my left!’_

_A clunk and a scream. A ‘don’t listen to ‘em, Dad!’. And the line went dead._

That was unacceptable. Wade hadn’t been careful, had let himself slack, and this was what happened. His kid got caught in the crossfire.

Buck had started shadowing him on his way home from school on his off days. Some of the other mercs had joined in, something that warmed Wade’s heart, if only a bit. They cared about his kid – and what was he thinking back then, taking in a kid when he led this kind of life? – and were willing to go out on a limb to protect him.

Peter’s bed had been moved down to the main floor, since the ladder was harder to climb with one hand. He had been poring over books and a sketchbook since it happened.

“Hey, Kid. Time for your lesson.”

Peter groaned. “Those hurt, Dad.”

“Yeah, but it means if someone tries to hurt you again you won’t just be able to take it, but you’ll be able to dish some of that pain, too. Now get up and come on. Weasel set up a place in the back for us to practice.”

Peter’s balance was decent, since he still had the arm, but the lack of a hand clearly bugged him. “Do you think I could make a hand? Like a working robo-hand?”

“You mean like the ones in Star Wars?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Like those!”

Wade looked at the kid a minute. If anyone that wasn’t Tony Stark could, it would be Peter. Even if it took him years. “Yeah, kid. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

Peter took the encouragement and used it to fuel him through his lesson. Wade praised him when he got maneuvers right – which was more often now – and helped him when they were wrong. He did some knife drills, some gun drills.

He was getting better at self-defense. Even if he did only have one hand.

* * *

Haley didn’t ask when Peter showed up to school missing a hand. His teachers got concerned, asked if his dad did it to him. Peter couldn’t believe the accusation, and defended his dad as ardently as he could. The only time his dad had hurt him was in training, and as far as Peter was concerned, that didn’t count. He was landing more and more hits every day, learning how to use the end of his amputated limb as an attack against Wade.

Instead, she started changing their signals. Whatever gestures they had used before had started developing into something more concrete. A language, almost. They could communicate fluently in their signals, even if Haley had never learned actual sign language.

_“I guess we need to use one hand now, huh?”_

Peter laughed. _“I mean, I do. You don’t.”_

_“It’ll be more interesting that way. Then I can rant about people on one hand and talk about homework with the other. Confuse my mom.”_

Her mom had thought teaching Haley to talk before teaching her sign was the better of the two options, and hadn’t liked it that she and Peter used signs to communicate. She couldn’t stop them from seeing each other at school, though, and Haley still didn’t know American Sign Language, so their language kept developing with time.

_“You need any help?”_

_“I’ll get used to it.”_

Haley started laughing. Her hands started flitting, fast as always. _“You’ve got something planned. Something ridiculous and sciency.”_

_“Yeah. Yeah I do.”_

Their teacher looked back at them, a playful wink as he caught them signing instead of paying attention. “Mr. Parker, would you like to answer the question?”

It was a math question, basic multiplication. He had started studying that last year, when he found a multiplication table series online at the library. The numbers had stuck in his brain ever since, spurring an interest in fields with math and science.

“27. Nine times three is 27, sir.”

“Very good.”

It was kind of understood at this point – as long as their grades were decent, he didn’t care if they goofed off in the back.

* * *

Wade would always feel guilty for what happened to his kid, but watching him gather bits of metal, shaping it and trying to start a prosthetic – something Wade was trying to save up for, but didn’t want to get his kid’s hopes up – was kind of fun. He had sloppy sketches of his plans that Wade was sure were more accurate and precise in his head.

“I think I’ll start by just building one.” Peter rambled as he cut the soda cans he had gathered from the dumpster and began layering them. “If only I had a way to melt the edges of these together…”

“I’ll pick up a cheap soldering iron for you tomorrow, alright, kid?”

“Alright. I’ll keep cutting these then.”

“Be careful, yeah? Metal can be really sharp, especially if you’re cutting it.”

“Yeah, Dad. I’ll be careful.”

Wade ruffled Peter’s hair, pulling him close for a minute. “You know I love you, right?”

Peter looked at him like he had gone mad. “Yeah. Of course, I do.”

“Alright kid.” Wade pulled a chair up, grabbing a spring off the table, sparking indignation in Peter. “Now, what are we using this for?”

Peter rolled his eyes, smiling as he launched into an explanation. If this was going to become part of the new normal, Wade kind of liked it. He hated how it happened. He hated that his kid was in this situation. For so long, Peter had been hesitant, hadn’t smiled.

Now he was smiling, passionate and excited as he held open a book from the library, pulling together bits of information about engineering and anatomy.

“I was thinking, if I can get the metal joints to fit together right, I can set up a series of pullies, locks, and supports that can keep the hand in certain positions!”

Wade nodded. “So is that what this is for?” It was a small rod, from what Wade couldn’t tell.

“Yeah!” Peter pulled it from Wade, grabbing another piece of scrap metal. “I was going to attach it to this, and then find a way to attach it to the bottom of the spring. If I attach a ring right here,” Peter motioned to a point on the drawing underneath the fingers a bit, “Then I can secure the fingers in a more upright position.”

Wade nodded. “Tell you what. We can’t use a soldering iron or anything to work with this until tomorrow, so how about we lay the parts out tonight and we can make our first try tomorrow?”

Peter got excited at that. As they went, Wade asked questions, pulled his attention to different parts of the machine he had designed. Peter had always been creative, but the stack of books he had gotten from the library and the pictures he had printed from different movies and shows where characters had metal hands had helped him design something impressive.

Wade wasn’t delusional. This was probably going to flop the first time around. But if it got the kid to stop thinking about it, then there was no reason to stop him from trying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter doesn't want to worry Wade, so he tries to deal with his recent trauma on his own. 
> 
> But he shouldn't have to, and Wade is willing to do anything it takes to make sure Peter feels safe again.

Peter was pretty good at hiding things. He had learned from watching the mercs that sometimes you shouldn’t share. It was easier, too, when your father was away a lot of nights for work.

His nightmares were one of those things he figured he shouldn’t share. He wasn’t sleeping well, and his dad was catching on, but so long as he didn’t make a sound on the nights Wade was home, he was fine.

He couldn’t smell that cologne, though, without being back there. The man had been wearing tons of it, and it had been a heavy scent – the kind that people complained about getting headaches from. He couldn’t go through the warehouse district to get home anymore, which sucked because it added a solid 15 minutes to his walk.

His life was kinda starting to suck. And his gym teacher was being a jerk, saying that he should be able to do pull ups on one arm. Yeah, his dad could, but he could only do one, and admitted it took him years to get there. It was more of a party trick than anything else.

That was the least of his concerns, though, when he considered that no matter what he did to try and build a prosthetic, it didn’t work. His dad had talked about buying one, but he knew money was tight. They couldn’t afford one.

Laying his head on his pillow, he figured he better get it over with. Get as much sleep as possible before the terror set in and he was awake the rest of the night.

* * *

There was a sharp pain on his left, but he had to worry about the things holding him first. There was something tight, and the more he struggled, the harder it was to breathe.

He could see his dad in front of him.

He could see his aunt behind her, the same look of fear as she told Peter to run, run, run! She held his uncle in her lap. Loud noises surrounded him before Peter had a chance to really figure out how to get out of the restraints holding him.

He was nine! Why were people trying to get a hold of him?

His dad got thrown to the side, his body getting mangled in the process. An older man, hair greyed and eyes lit up with some kind of sick joy stood over Peter. Put his hand on his shoulder before leaning down, making Peter hear that voice even in his dreams.

“You can’t save anyone. Can you, little boy?”

“Get away from me you fucking creep!”

“Naughty boy!” There was a smack to his head. “Naughty, naughty boy. I assume you picked that up from that trash you call a father, yes?”

“What’s it to you, dickwad?”

He was nine, but he knew how to swear like the best of them.

Suddenly his world was shaking, and he began to panic. Was this an earthquake? Was he dying? What was –

And then he had his dad in front of him. The thing that felt like it was holding him too tight was his blanket, tangled around his arm and the still-healing stump. He wasn’t in a broken-down warehouse, he was in their apartment, his dad holding him and running a hand over his hair.

“You’re okay, buddy. I promise.”

“Do you get nightmares, Dad?”

“All the time, kid.” The hand put a little pressure on Peter’s head, pushing him closer to Wade. “That’s why I don’t want you getting wrapped up in my line of work. If you never see the kinds of things I’ve seen, I’ll be able to say I did my job as a parent right.”

Peter wrapped his arms around his dad. He didn’t think he’d be home tonight. He thought there was a job tonight, that he was on his own. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, bud.” Wade laid down, pulling Peter with him. “Was this a onetime thing, or has it been going on a while?”

Peter shrugged. “This was the first time May and Ben were in it.”

“Your aunt and uncle?”

Peter nodded. “Other than that, it’s a lot of the same.”

“Kid, you can always come to me. If the worst I ever have to fight off for you from here on out is a nightmare, I will be one happy father.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Because that means you aren’t getting kidnapped by psychos that I’ve pissed off.” Wade sat up a bit, pulling his jacket off and throwing it to the side of the bed. “You said your aunt and uncle were in it tonight?”

Peter nodded again, already feeling himself drift off.

“You know, kid, we can look for them if you want.”

Peter thought about it. It could be kinda nice… he didn’t want to leave Wade, though. He liked it here. “Maybe. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Yeah. We can. Sleep well, kid.”

* * *

They didn’t talk about it the next day. Wade didn’t know how to bring it up, and Peter was distant enough without Wade adding to it.

It wasn’t until Wednesday that they even began to consider discussing it.

“I think I want to find her.”

Peter had walked up to the apartment from Nassrin’s, barely talking. Nassrin had been worried, pulling Wade aside and asking him if something had happened.

“Your aunt?”

Peter shifted where he was standing. His bookbag was handing off of his bad side, and he slipped it off, hooking it in the crook of his elbow. He slipped it on his bed over his stump. “Yeah.”

Wade waited. There was something he wasn’t saying.

“I just… I love you, but… I miss her.”

Wade knew Peter didn’t really remember his aunt, but he could understand the sentiment. He missed his mom, even if he had barely known the woman.

“We’ll do our best, then. Yeah?” Wade pulled Peter into a hug.

“Yeah.” Peter leaned into the hug. “We always do.”

_That’s right, buddy. We always do._


End file.
